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Constantius sat within the eastern roman royal palace. He gazed in awe at the opulent tapestries and the elegant trappings that littered the building. One thing was abundantly clear from the moment he stepped foot into the city of Constantinople: the eastern roman empire was significantly wealthier than the west.

Centuries of accumulation had made Constantinople the jewel of the east. Meanwhile, Rome had fallen in to decay, and the two other cities that had the honor of the being the capital of the west could not compare to the luxury that the east held within the palm of their hands.

The Byzantine regent was also the Sassanid emperor. He was a man by the name of Yazdegerd. He was as swarthy as Constantius had expected him to be. Hawkish features, brown eyes, sun-kissed skin, and an earthen mop atop his head. There was nothing distinctly Roman about the man.

Next to Yazdegerd was the boy emperor, a mere child by the name of Theodosius II. His grandfather founded the dynasty which, until recently, ruled over both the west and east. However, the man’s feeble genes had clearly passed onto his grandchild, as the boy appeared to be slow, not to mention his weak chin, and bug like eyes. When Constantine reflected on how hideous and incompetent Honorius was, he began to suspect something was deeply wrong with the lineage.

Then again, Placidia was not only sharp, but beautiful. Though such an exception did not disprove the norm. Perhaps Venus had taken pity on the poor girl and blessed her with her good looks. None of these things were important, and yet Constantius could only think such things when witnessing the eastern roman emperor for the first time.

First impressions were often the key to success, and the fact that Theodosius looked the way he did instantly reaffirmed the man’s loyalties to Marcellus. He was glad to be serving a capable man of a noble lineage. Still, he internally worried about what his offspring would be like.

After all, they were the children of Placidia. If the gods truly existed, surely they would not be capricious enough to bless the Empire with Marcellus only to make his successor a pathetic whelp like Honorius? Why was Constantius thinking of such things, because the swarthy regent had posed him a question about his loyalties towards Marcellus’ military dictatorship and the laws of succession that were in place?

After gazing upon the seed of Arcadius, he could boldly say that he was indeed worried, but for the opposite reasons that Yazdegerd had posed. After careful consideration, he decided to speak of these concerns out in the open.

“I am indeed worried about Marcellus’ successor, assuming he fulfills his promise and abdicates from the throne after fixing the Empire’s problems, and that he places his eldest son on the throne in his place. Knowing the lineage that a boy will come from, I am deeply concerned about the future of the Empire. I suppose it is a flip of the coin. Will the boy inherit his father’s capability, or would he take after his mother’s side of the family?”

Yazdegerd immediately frowned when he heard this. He looked over at the boy, Theodosius, who clearly did not understand that Constantius had just insulted his lineage. Thus, he had to make it abundantly clear to the slow fool just what was said to his face.

“Why have you come all this way to Constantinople if you are just going to insult the emperor to his face? I should have you executed for what you just said!”

Constantius was not afraid of Yazdegerd and because of this, he merely scoffed before expressing his disdain.

“Go ahead and try it, but I’ll have you know that Marcellus has pledged should any harm come to me. He will raze the city of Constantinople to the ground. Let’s look past the vast difference in the size of your armies and understand the fact that he is a far more capable General than anyone you have under your command. Are you willing to take the risk, knowing that so long as Marcellus lives, he is a threat to this city’s continued existence? Go ahead and puff your chest. We both know your threats hold no real intent.”

Like a deflated balloon, Yazdegerd collapsed into his chair in defeat. As much as he did not want to admit it, Marcellus was a talented general. He understood all aspects of war quite thoroughly, and could easily come up with countermeasures on the spot should something unexpected occur. Was he as great as Caesar? No, but he was more capable than anyone else that was available in this era.

Thus, after careful contemplation, the man could only sigh in defeat before asserting his demands.

“You know what it is that I demand of you. After the trouble your men have caused on my border, I want proper payment. 5,000 pounds of gold, and 30,000 pounds of silver. You pay us this, and we will look the other way for this attack on our Empire!”

When Constantius heard this, he scoffed once more. Such a thing was a king’s ransom, and he knew Marcellus would never pay it. Thus, he did not bother entertaining such an idea, and instead made his counter demand.

“Marcellus will never pay that, and you know it. We both know that your men were in the wrong, acting as common brigands while abusing the authority of the Army. They demanded an unlawful toll and attacked our caravan when they refused.

We have proof of this, and if you do not release our merchants, and pay us 5,000 pounds of gold, and 30,000 pounds of silver in compensation for the men you have murdered, then we will be forced to engage in economic sanctions. I’d like to see how long it takes before your people are up in arms because they can’t get their hands on our fortified wine, or our distilled liquor.”

Yazdegerd clenched his fists in rage when he heard this. He did not want to call Constantius bluff. The truth was that Constantius was lying through his teeth. He had no idea that the Frumentarii had actually succeeded in getting some damning evidence about the eastern roman army’s wrongdoings. He just assumed they had succeeded in their endeavors and used it during negotiations. If he was wrong, then he would surely pay for it.

However, Yazdegerd couldn’t take that risk. Since Marcellus had invented distilled spirits, and blended it with his wine. The denizens of the east had become reliant on it. If he forced Marcellus to withdraw trade, the west would surely suffer. However, Marcellus could convince his people to endure a life without silk and gemstones, at least for a time. On the other hand, Yazdegerd could not convince the people of Constantinople to live without fortified wine.

Despite this reality, he was not willing to concede defeat until he had witnessed this so-called proof in person. Thus, he was quick to set up a face-to-face meeting with Marcellus.

“Bullshit! There is no proof, because what you say is simply false. However, I would very much like to see how Marcellus backs up such bold words. Tell your master we shall meet in neutral ground. Outside the borders of both of our realms. He is allowed to bring an army of a thousand men to protect him from barbarians, and I am allowed to do the same. If I see he shows up with more men than are alotted, I will assume he had declared war.”

Constantius’s lips curved into a smile as he heard this before nodding his head in agreement. After agreeing on a neutral location outside the borders of Illyricum, as well as a time to meet Constantius, prepared for his long journey back to Rome.